Starting Today, You are a Host!
by 1-800fangirl
Summary: A Hetalia x OHSHC crossover fic. What happens when our favorite hosts have become some of our favorite countries? Elizaveta Héderváry only wanted a quiet place to study, but she'd never been one to have good luck. It wasn't her fault that vase was so fragile! And yet before she knows what's happened she's become a host in the famed Hetalia Host Club. Will she retain her sanity?


Just a crossover between Hetalia and Ouran High School Host Club. I just rewrote the first chapter of the manga with a cast of Hetalia characters, plus there's a twist at the end that's not really a twist. I hope you enjoy!

xXxXxXx

Starting Today, You are a Host!

Elizaveta sighed, pushing the bangs of her short brown hair out of her face as she continued to make her way up the over-furnished stairs. All she wanted was a quiet place the study. Nothing more, nothing less. And yet it seemed that every other room she'd gone to had been full of loud and obnoxious rich people. Thus logic was telling her to go to the top floor and find a room that no one else used. There had to be one.

Or so she hoped, anyway.

The Hungarian student stared up at the dusty sign hanging above the door she'd come across. It did appear to no longer be in use, if nothing else. "'Third World Geography Room', huh?" she mused. "I guess the course was removed from the roster, so they don't need the room anymore." She couldn't recall seeing it when she'd chosen her classes, so her assumption was logical – at least, in her opinion.

She took a deep breath, praying that the room would be empty and that she'd be able to study in peace, then opened the door.

 _You have got to be kidding me._

"Welcome, Hungarian foreign exchange student Eli Héderváry," a smooth voice said, "to the Hetalia High School Host Club."

 _Ah, that's right. I did ask to be called Eli for short, didn't I?_

She immediately turned on her heel and tried to leave, not wanting to have to deal with the group of six rich boys. Unfortunately, the same one who'd spoken stood from his chair, took a few steps forward, and grabbed her shoulder.

"Going somewhere?" he chuckled. She noticed that his eyes were a piercing violet, which was something she'd never seen before.

 _They must be contacts._

"Yes, actually," she replied, shrugging his hand off of her. "Away from here."

Roderich raised a brow when she spoke, remaining silent as he wrote something down in the small notebook he held in his left hand. When Lovino and Feliciano tried to peek, he held it out of their view, resulting in them sticking their tongues out at him. "So you're the foreign exchange student everyone has been gossiping about as of late," he said in attempt to direct their attention away from him. "You must have a lot of nerve to apply to Hetalia High of all schools."

Elizaveta frowned, unsure of whether his words were a compliment or an insult. It turned out, however, that she had no time to think about it, so it didn't really matter.

"You are a hero to your people, mon cher!" the light-haired teen who'd grabbed her proclaimed. "At least, so to speak. It's truly an amazing feat that you made it into Hetalia High – and by some chance of 'fate' you've stumbled upon the Host Club." He winked at her. "Well, there's no shame in being gay. A customer is a customer, after all!"

Elizaveta opened and closed her mouth in a manner akin to a fish. "I – actually, um…" She couldn't think of a reasonable explanation.

"Don't hide it, mon ami," he chastised. "So, what do you prefer? Berwald – the 'Wild' type?" He gestured towards a tall man with icy blue eyes, who did nothing but stare at her. "Peter – the 'Boy Lolita'?"

"Hi, Mr. Eli!" an energetic-looking boy exclaimed from atop the silent blonde's shoulders. "It's nice to meet you!"

"What about the 'Little Devil' type of Lovino and Feliciano, hmm?"

"Yo," a set of identical twins said, flashing peace signs towards her. She swore that their curls seemed to bounce in unison.

"Even Roderich, the 'Cool' type?"

The dark-haired man pushed his glasses up his nose as means of acknowledgment, though his expression didn't change.

"Or perhaps," the blonde said, taking her chin in one hand and holding out a rose to her with the other, "you'd prefer someone like me – Francis, the 'Princely' type?"

Elizaveta turned a brilliant shade of crimson before immediately shoving him away from her, sputtering incoherently. She took several steps backward so rapidly that she stumbled, slamming into a pedestal. She turned around, only to watch a vase fall in what seemed to be slow motion before shattering on the ground. She inhaled sharply, fearful of what the group's reactions were going to be.

"Oh dear," Feliciano said, studying the broken vase. "That vase was going to be sold in the school's auction!"

"And it was going to start bidding at eight million yen," Lovino added, pouting. "Such a shame."

Elizaveta felt the color drain from her face. "E-eight m-m-million yen?" she stuttered, trying to calculate exactly how many thousands were in a million and how on Earth she was going to pay it off. "I-I'll pay you back… Somehow…"

Feliciano bit his lip, giving her a pitying look. "Are you sure about that? I mean… You can't even afford the school's uniform."

The Hungarian flushed in embarrassment, looking down at the worn clothes she'd stolen from the back of her father's closet. She thought they were quiet comfortable, but it was true that they didn't compare to what any of the other students were wearing.

"You could have at least gone for something closer to a uniform," Lovino chimed in, "instead of that tasteless garb."

Elizaveta felt as if she'd been punched in the gut. "Right. Thanks for the advice," she muttered.

"I suppose there's only one thing for you to do," Roderich said, snapping his notebook shut. "Francis?"

"Indeed," the violet-eyed teen agreed, stroking his chin for no particular reason. "Eli, I'm sure you've heard this proverb before: when in France, be as elegant as the other Frenchmen are – correct?"

"A-Actually," she corrected, unsure of how the man had managed to come up with something so very wrong, "it's 'when in Rome, do as the Romans do'."

He shook his hand dismissively. "Same thing, mon ami. You're not getting the idea." He pointed at her, an evil grin painting his features – a complete turnaround from his previous attitude. "From now on, you're going to be the Host Club's dog!"

Elizaveta felt the blood drain from her face. "I'm… I'm what…?"

The twins laughed, each placing a hand on her shoulder. "You heard him, Eli!"

She hung her head. If only she'd never opened the door to the Third World Geography Room…

 _Too late now_.

xXxXxXx

"Francis, will you take a trip with me this summer?" a pretty Asian girl with pink flowers in her hair asked, fluttering her eyelashes. "We can go wherever you want."

Francis shrugged, leaning against the back of the couch. "If you so desire, ma chère – and the location doesn't matter to me." He winked at her. "So long as I'm with you, nothing does."

The girl swooned, a blush painting her features. "Oh, how wonderful!" She hesitated, then added, "If you don't mind, Francis, I made a batch of cookies of cookies earlier today, and I was wondering if…" She trailed off, casting her warm brown eyes to the ground.

"Wondering what?" he responded. "If I'd eat one?" Upon seeing her shy nod from the corner of his eyes, he sat up and turned towards her, taking her chin in his hand. "Of course," he said, leaning close to her, violet eyes glittering, "but only if you feed it to me, ma chèrie."

The girl squealed, making Elizaveta cringe. She really was surrounded by lunatics.

"Oh, and get this!" Lovino snickered, gesturing towards his twin. "Feliciano and I were playing a game, right? And this idiota here somehow managed to –"

"Lovino," Feliciano interrupted, a pout permeating his lips and his cheeks painted with a blush, "I thought I told you not to tell anyone about that!"

"Did you?" the Italian replied carelessly. "I'm sorry – I don't remember."

"You're so cruel, Lovi!" Feliciano protested, wiping away tears that Elizaveta was certain were fake. "I don't understand why you're always so mean to me!"

Lovino leaned over to his twin, cupping his face in his hands. "I suppose I am mean. But you'll forgive me, won't you, Feli?" Their noses brushed. "You always do."

Elizaveta resisted the urge to gag at their dramatic performance, and was even more disgusted by how excited the two girls sitting in front of them became, squealing loudly and going on and on about how strong their forbidden 'brotherly love' was, and how the world was so cruel to keep them apart.

Honestly, she just didn't see the appeal in it.

"Enjoying the show?" Roderich asked, appearing from nowhere and causing her to jump. "Oh, sorry – did I startle you?"

She shook her head, choosing not answer.

"In case you couldn't tell," the Austrian said, gesturing towards where the twins were still 'performing' with each other, "the Host Club takes its customers very seriously, and the main characteristic of each member has been cultivated precisely to cater to their preferences." He pushed his glasses up his nose, a smirk dancing on his lips. "And, as expected, each member has their own group of regulars, so to speak, though Francis is easily the most popular host."

Elizaveta felt her jaw drop. "Him?!" she repeated, not believing her ears.

Roderich nodded, handing her a slip of paper with each host's average request rate on it.

"Seventy percent?!" she muttered, her grip so tight she almost tore the sheet in half. "Impossible."

"The Host Club in itself is quite a hotspot for the school," the dark-haired man continued, retrieving the paper from her hands before folding it and placing it inside his notebook. "That means you're going to be doing a lot around here to repay your debt." He smiled at her, and though it appeared cheerful, it radiated an aura of evil like nothing she'd ever seen. "And while you can try to run away, I assure you the Edelstein family has control over a large police force and we will not hesitate to track you down."

She swallowed the lump in her throat, nodding. "R-Right."

"Work hard and you'll do fine, mon cher," Francis said into her ear, causing her jump away from him while biting back a yelp.

"Please refrain from doing that," she muttered, running a hand through her short brown hair. "It makes me uncomfortable."

The blonde pouted. "Really? But it's a classic technique."

"As if I care about that sort of thing," she mumbled, sighing silently to herself. "I just don't understand the purpose of this club – catering to girls like that. It's not as if appearance is that important anyways. Man? Woman? Who cares? It's what's on the inside that counts."

"While that is true," Francis said with a sigh, "you need to understand that sometimes people with perfect bodies and minds are created, and they have to be..."

Elizaveta tuned out the man as he continued rambling, failing to see the relevance of his words. Honestly, she really didn't understand how this guy was the most requested host in the club. He was just so… She frowned. What was the word? Troublesome? No, that wasn't it.

The Hungarian could still hear him talking about how beautiful he was or something, though it was going in one ear and out the other.

Frustrating, perhaps? No, that wasn't the word she was looking for either – per se, at least. She snapped her fingers as it finally came to her. "I've got it."

Francis beamed at her. "Oh, so you understand?"

"You're annoying."

The blood drained from the blonde's face, and he sank into a corner, poking at the floor and mumbling incoherent sentences to himself, undoubtedly in an attempt to restore his ego.

"You've got a lot of nerve after all!" Lovino laughed, appearing from nowhere as he clapped her on the shoulder and jutted his thumb towards the Frenchman. "There aren't too many people who can make him go into his emo corner!"

Feliciano giggled. "You have made him quite depressed, haven't you?"

"I – I suppose I have," Elizaveta replied, eyeing the blonde. "I mean, I told him the truth. Was I really that hurtful?"

"Nah," Lovino said dismissively, still laughing. "Don't bother with him. He's such a drama queen."

"Still," she muttered, biting her lip. "Perhaps I should apologize." She moved towards the sulking Frenchman. "Er, Francis?"

"Call me King," he interrupted moodily. "That's what I go by here."

She raised a brow, skeptical but too lazy to protest. "Alright. King, are you –"

"Oi, Sovrano!" Lovino said, knocking Francis in the back of the head as he moved past him. "You're in the walkway. Move."

"You're not allowed to slack off just because you're a little butthurt, mio signore!" Feliciano added merrily, following suit of his twin.

"Indeed," Roderich agreed, speaking for the first time in a while. "You have several customers waiting on you, so please go ahead and end this ridiculous pity party of yours."

"Hi everybody!" a cheerful voice said. "Sorry we're late!"

"Finally," the Austrian muttered, checking something off in his notebook. "I was beginning to get more annoyed with them than their customers."

"Peter! Berwald!" a girl with dark skin and dark ponytails said eagerly, running over to the duo as the younger blonde was being placed onto the ground. "What took you so long? I've been waiting!"

"I'm sorry," Peter said, his blue eyes getting watery. "I fell asleep waiting for Berwald to finish an exam, and I'm still kind of tired right now…" He yawned, as if to prove his point.

The girl gasped. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Peter!" She quickly took his hands in hers and started pulling him towards an empty couch. "Come on – let's get you comfortable."

Berwald grunted before sweeping Peter off his feet and carrying him to the couch himself, the petite girl swooning as she trailed after them.

Elizaveta watched the scenario, not understanding at all. "Why does that Berwald guy never talk?" she muttered, only half-expecting an answer.

"No one really knows," Francis replied, having recovered from his lapse of depression. "Berwald has always been a very quiet person, though silence is his selling point. He's actually one of the friendliest people in the club, but is awkward around girls."

"Only awkward around girls, huh?" Elizaveta said, amused. "I can think of reason why that might be." She cleared her throat, changing the subject. "So… Is Peter actually in high school?"

"He's the oldest in the club. You didn't know?"

"He's the – what?" she gaped, dumbfounded. "No way."

He chuckled. "Kidding. He's homeschooled by Berwald – he's his younger cousin, you see. I think he's only in middle school."

Elizaveta nodded slowly, recovering from her shock. "I see. Makes sense." Then she sighed. "I got entangled up with you rich people when I only wanted a quiet place to study…"

"You can't study at home?" Francis asked, his curiosity piqued. "I imagine it's quiet there."

"Sometimes," she snorted. "But as my father tends to work at night, and he brings his lover home during the day, it almost never is."

The blonde flinched. "Ooh. I take it you don't get along with your father?"

The Hungarian shrugged. "We get along fine, I suppose. The only things we really argue on are his inability to manage money and my lack of his taste in fashion." Then a soft smile grew on her lips. "But I just don't want to bother him. Though my opinion is that he doesn't spend his time or his money wisely, he's brought me up by himself since I was little. It's only fair that I give him some time to himself."

Francis stroked his chin. "I see, I see. Indeed, your situation is as destitute as I thought, mon ami."

Elizaveta frowned. "I'm not sure if 'destitute' is exactly the word to describe it."

"Your staple is surely white rice or something similar, no?" he continued, ignoring her. "And you're so poor that you have to serve as a servant for rich people! No wonder you're so used to performing tasks like what the Host Club assigns to you!" Glassy tears were streaming down his cheeks. "Oh, my poor Eli, surely you cry yourself to sleep every night because of the abuse forced upon you!"

The brunette took a hasty step away from the dramatic Frenchman. "Francis, what era are you referring to?" she said, massaging her temples in exasperation. "This isn't the eighteenth century, you know!"

The blonde wiped tears from his face with a handkerchief he'd pulled from nowhere. "I've been watching so many soap operas lately and they all include poor people such as yourself… I had no idea you were living in such unfavorable circumstances!"

Her eyebrow twitched. "I already said that I wasn't living like that, if you'd listen to me –"

"Enough!" Francis interrupted, holding a hand out to silence her. "It's time for you to learn!"

"Learn?" the girl repeated, clueless about what he was talking about. "Learn what?"

"It might be impossible because of your haggard appearance," he mumbled, ignoring her completely, "but I will train you personally. Yes… Let me think…"

Elizaveta had never been so confused in her life – at least so it seemed to her. "Francis, could you please –"

"100 people!" he announced, pointing at her. "You will become a host – after you receive substantial training by moi, of course. And if you can get 100 people to request you, consider your debt to be paid off in full!"

Elizaveta felt the blood drain from her face at his words. "No…" She groaned, desperately wishing that he'd revoke his order and instruct her to continue as she was and keep doing chores for the club.

 _You've got to be kidding me…_

xXxXxXx

"Remember the Hetalia Host Club motto, Eli," Francis instructed. "Never hesitate, always cater to the customer, and above all – be beautiful!"

Elizaveta sighed as she practiced the same routine for what must have been the hundredth time. "Thank you for waiting," she began, sliding into a seat and moving her glass forward. "I'm sorry that I –"

"No!" the violet-eyed man practically screeched, hitting her with a tube of rolled up newspaper. "Not like that!" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Eli. Eli, Eli, Eli." He cast his glance down at her. "I had such high hopes for you."

She rolled her eyes, rubbing her head where she'd been hit. "Whatever. It's not as if I even want to be a host."

He ignored her comment, taking the cup from her hands. "Listen to me," he said. "When you put the glass down, you must use a finger – preferably your pinkie – as a cushion. This prevents it from making any noise, meaning it doesn't disturb the customers."

The Hungarian nodded slowly, feeling that for once there was some logic behind the Frenchman's eccentricity. "So it saves both the host and customer from an awkward silence?"

Francis shrugged. "I suppose. But most importantly –" He held the glass next to his face, flashing her a dazzling smile. "It helps make the host look good."

She blinked, unsure of what he was referring to. Was it so they could see their reflection in the glass or something?

"Of course," he chuckled, "some of us don't need any assistance with looking good."

"Right," she sighed, not bothering to question it. "Anything else?"

"Yes!" Francis said, snapping his fingers. "One last thing." He placed his elbow on the table and rested his face on his hand. He gave her a more relaxed and charming grin, looking up ever so slightly at her. "If you ever come across a problem during your time as a host, it's always useful to look at things from a lower perspective."

She stared blankly at him.

The corners of his mouth seemed to turn down at her lack of response. "Perhaps this is too high a level of a move for you, mon cher?"

She hesitated then said, "No… But I don't 'feel' anything." The technique must be faulty, she reasoned to herself. "Am I supposed to?"

Francis stumbled away in shock, gasping about how he had brought shame to his family and deserved to die before retreating to his emo corner.

"You're joking," Elizaveta muttered in exasperation, hanging her head. How irritating. "Actually, Francis, I did feel a bit of a spark! Or something…"

"Mr. Eli!" Peter cheered, appearing out of the blue and interrupting her. "Come eat cake with me! It'll be fun!"

Elizaveta hesitated. "Well… You see, Peter, I'm not too fond of sweet things."

"Is it because you're so poor that you can't afford them?!" Peter gasped, his blue eyes widening before starting to water. "Poor Mr. Eli! You and Hanatamago can share an entire cake if you want!" He held up a stuffed white dog eagerly. "See! He wants to share with you!"

The Hungarian sweatdropped. "I'm actually not too fond of dogs, either…"

The young blonde's demeanor changed entirely as he gazed eerily at her. "Are you telling me that you don't like Hanatamago?" he said slowly, his blue eyes narrowing before widening slightly as something seemed to occur to him.

Elizaveta gulped, terrified for a reason she couldn't identify. "Ah… Let's eat, shall we?"

Peter beamed at her, his cheery attitude returning. "Yay!" he said, grabbing her arm and dragging her away.

She sighed in relief, going along with it.

 _These people are crazy._

xXxXxXx

"Rumors are flying around the school, Francis," a pretty silver-haired girl said as she studied the glass in her hands, "that you're training some little kitty with no pedigree to be a host." She tilted her head to the side, a small frown dancing on her lips. "Is this true?"

Francis chuckled. "The rumors are correct, ma chère," he said lightly. "And despite his lack of a pedigree, as you put it, he does have promise."

The girl sighed. "If you say so, Francis."

He smiled at her. "Are you worried about my reputation, Natalia?" He winked. "If so, there's no need to be." He gently took her hand in his. "You're the only one for me, after all."

The Belarusian woman blushed but rolled her eyes. "You're such a flirt."  
Francis shrugged, a smirk dancing on his lips. "I've heard that one before, ma chère. It's nothing –"

"I'm back," Elizaveta called as she trudged into the room, a bag of groceries in her arms.

"Excellent," Francis cheered, distracted by the disturbance. "Thank you for buying our things, little piggy."

Natalia studied the Hungarian who'd just walked in. "So this the kitten without a pedigree, huh?" she muttered to herself. "Interesting."

"First a dog, then a cat, and now a pig," Elizaveta sighed before heading over to Francis and handing him a small container of instant coffee. "Who knows what it'll be next."

"What is this?" the blonde said, studying the label that said 'Special Blend'. "I don't remember –"

"It's coffee," the Hungarian interrupted. "It was sixth or seventh on the list Roderich gave me."

Francis frowned. "Is it already ground?"

Elizaveta sighed. "It's instant coffee. If you don't like it I can –"

She was interrupted by the Frenchman's exaggerated gasp. "Instant coffee?!" he said in awe, drawing the attention of the others hosts and causing them to gather around him. "This is what peasants make, isn't it? Where you only have to put it in hot water before it's ready to drink?"

"I see," Roderich said, jotting something down in his ever-present notebook. "This is the rumored coffee of peasants."

Elizaveta felt her eye twitch at the repeated use of 'peasant'. "If it's really that bad I can –"

"So it's true that poor people don't even have time to ground their own coffee beans," Lovino said in disbelief. "What a pitiful life they must lead."

"But how clever of them to come up with something like this!" Feliciano added in awe. "Such is the wisdom of peasants."

"I've always wanted to try instant coffee!" Peter piped up. "It must taste so different!"

Berwald simply nodded.

"I SAID I'D GO GET THE RIGHT ONE!" Elizaveta growled, gritting her teeth. "I'm sorry it's not the fancy expensive kind where you have to grind your own beans that you're all used to."

"No!" Francis said, holding the container into the air. "Don't bother, Eli." He took a deep breath. "I… I shall drink the commoner's coffee!"

The entire room burst into a smattering of applause for the blonde, causing Elizaveta to groan. These people were ridiculous.

"Ooh, Sovrano!" Lovino smirked. "You're so brave!"

"And look at this!" Feliciano gasped. "It only cost three hundred yen for a hundred grams! Lovino, that's cheaper than a regular cup of coffee!"

"Gah," Elizaveta said, pulling at her hair in frustration. "These stupid rich kids…!"

"They're all acting so foolish," Natalia said, studying her fingernails. "There's no way a coffee meant for peasants could ever suit their tastes."

Elizaveta frowned, turning towards the girl. "What?" she asked, having only heard the first sentence.

"Nothing," the silver-haired woman said with false sweetness. "I was talking to myself."

"Right," Elizaveta said with a sigh, starting to move away from her. "Well, I'll be –"

"Eli!" Francis called from behind a table, the rest of the Host Club beside him. "Come prepare the commoner's coffee for us. We're all waiting!"

Natalia bit back a sharp retort at the blonde's eagerness, instead continuing to look over her nails.

"Fine," Elizaveta grumbled, making her way over. "But don't distract me."

"Sì, Capitano!" the twins said in unison, saluting her as the rest of the Host Club nodded.

A few minutes later, she'd finished. "Done," she muttered, stepping aside while Berwald poured the coffee into cups for the customers. "It's a little hot. And don't blame me if it doesn't suit your tastes."

"Come on," Lovino crooned, holding out a small plate with a cup of coffee on it to a girl with dirty blonde hair. "Try it!"

"Oh, but I'm kind of scared," she replied anxiously. "And I'm sure my father would get mad at me if I drank it!"

Francis chuckled at the ongoing scene in front of him. "It won't suit our tastes, huh?" He moved towards the girl, cupping her face in his hands. "Would you drink it if it was served mouth-to-mouth, ma chère?" he asked, his voice low.

"I-I'd drink it!" the girl stuttered, her entire face so red it would make a cherry envious.

"Well then," he said, pulling away, "cheers to this commoner's coffee!"

"Yay!" the twins said, clinking their cups together before downing it in unison.

"Natalia," a short-haired girl muttered. "Don't you think Francis is going a bit overboard with this? I mean, he's actually drinking that coffee!"

Natalia sighed. "He's only being polite to the boy he wants to make into a host, Katyusha," she replied. Her violet eyes narrowed as she watched the blonde walk up to the foreign exchange student and ask for another cup. "But his kindness is quite the problem in itself."

Elizaveta sighed at the request. "Fine. I'll make some more."

 _These spoiled rich people._

xXxXxXx

"Today we're going to keep conducting our research on the way commoners live!" Francis proclaimed. "And so, everyone – we will be trying the peasants' ramen!"

"Eh?" Elizaveta said, blinking in confusion. "What does this have to do with teaching me how to be a host?"

She was ignored.

"Alright! Everyone, you have to try to make a different type of ramen – and it must be edible!" Francis announced, clapping his hands together.

"Yes, mio signore!" the twins said, saluting him.

"There's so many different types," Peter said in awe. "Berwald, what kind should we make?"

The Swede's response was to hand the short blonde a package of noodles.

"Ooh!" Peter said, practically drooling. "This one does look good."

"Now, I want you all to follow the teacher's instructions!" Francis said, pointing at Elizaveta, who blinked in surprise.

"Me?" She sighed. Of course she was the teacher. "Fine." She headed towards the table, where everything was already laid out. "First, you have to –"

But before she could begin, the Hungarian was peppered with questions from all sides.

"It says to heat for three and four minutes – what's the difference?"

"Do you have to throw out certain parts of it? And – ooh, what's this?"

"Spicy mayo stings my eyes. Can we not put it in?"

Elizaveta sighed, already overwhelmed and not even a minute had gone by. But the voice that drew her attention was one she hadn't yet heard.

"The ingredients are stuck to the lid," Berwald said, a slight frown on his face.

Her jaw dropped, amazed that he'd actually spoken. "Oh – well…" She took a container of ramen for herself and began to demonstrate. "If you put the ingredients below the noodles before you begin, then you don't have to worry about that happening."

Berwald nodding before copying her actions.

"Such an amazing technique, mon ami!" Francis gushed. "The ingenuity of peasants will never cease to amaze me!" He took Elizaveta's head in his hands, touching their foreheads together. "You, Eli, are truly wonderful! Please, give me permission to express my awe with my body."

Elizaveta didn't lose composure for even a moment. "Please don't," she muttered. "It's irritating and uncomfortable."

"Oh, it's not just that," Lovino said with a sigh. "Feliciano, Eli doesn't get the big picture, does he?"

The other Italian shook his head sadly. "No, Lovi – he doesn't. He's completely missing the point."

"What are you two going on about?" the Hungarian said after shoving Francis away from her.

"Let us explain this to you," Lovino said, linking arms with his twin. "You see, females love two beautiful homosexuals together – especially when an element of the relationship being a forbidden one is added."

Feliciano winked at her. "Sì. And as twins, we're able to use the forbidden card to its fullest! We play it off as two guys who don't know whether they're friends, brothers, or…" He turned to face his twin, touching their noses together. "Something more."

"And to add to that," Lovino continued after a pause, moving next to the brunette, "our customers get to be loved by us, who have such a deep bond – at the same time."

"The ultimate romance for girls," Feliciano agreed, standing on the opposite side of her.

Elizaveta just blinked, her eyes blank. "Okay."

The twins sighed. "We knew you wouldn't get it." They exchanged glances, something clicking in their identical brown eyes.

"Then why did you bother explaining?" she muttered, rolling her eyes. "Geez."

Francis nodded, stroking his chin. "I see what you mean – Lovino, Feliciano. The problem once again lies in the visual."

"Or Eli's denseness when it comes to hosting," they suggested.

Francis ignored them, stepping towards the Hungarian. "Let's see… Perhaps it's the glasses – though by taking those off it may make your eyes seem smaller," he said, reaching to remove the glasses from her face. "And what's with these old-fashioned frames?"

She rolled her eyes. "They were my grandfather's," she said, though she didn't stop the blonde from taking them off her face.

Francis bit back a gasp upon seeing the teen without glasses.

Elizaveta didn't notice, continuing to tell her story. "And they're only temporary. I lost my contacts on the morning of the first day of school, and I haven't had time to get any new ones." She noticed how all conversation had stopped. "Er… Is something wrong?"

Francis ignored her, snapping his fingers. "Lovino! Feliciano!"

"Ready, mio signore!" they shouted, holding scissors and a towel that had appeared from nowhere.

"Roderich," the blonde continued, "call the school's tailor immediately and have them prepare a uniform in Eli's size! And Berwald, go get those disposable contacts you keep for emergencies!"

Both nodded and followed their respective orders.

"Francis!" Peter called. "What about me? What do you want me to do?"

"And Peter, mon ami," Francis said kindly, "what I need you to do is eat some cake!"

The short blonde begrudgingly went over to an empty table, lugging his stuffed dog along with him. "Everyone's too busy for us, Hanatamago," he muttered. "They all think we're useless."

Lovino pushed Elizaveta into a chair while Feliciano tied the towel around her neck, draping it so that it covered her lap.

"What are you doing?!" she yelped as they started to trim and style her hair.

"Trust us," they replied in unison. "We know what we're doing."

She groaned, resigning herself to her fate.

 _Rich people are so weird._

xXxXxXx

"Have you finished changing into the uniform yet, Eli?" Francis called. "And I hope the contacts are alright."

"They're fine," he heard the Hungarian grumble. "And I'm almost done."

A few moments later, she walked out of the dressing room, adjusting the tie around her neck. "How much did this uniform cost?" she sighed.

"Three hundred thousand yen," Roderich said, making a note in his book. "It will be added to your debt, I'm afraid."

Elizaveta sighed. "I knew it."

"You look so cute, Eli!" Francis said, almost tackling her with a hug. "And dare I say it – you look almost like a girl!" He winked at her. "Adorable, ma chèrie."

"Thanks," she muttered, pushing him away from her.

"You really do look very cute, Mr. Eli!" Peter beamed. "I'm sure the girls will be all over you!"

Berwald nodded in agreement.

"Yeah," Lovino said awkwardly, not meeting her eyes, a tiny blush dancing on his cheeks. "Why didn't you tell us earlier you had that kind of face?"

"Right!" Feliciano added. "You radiate innocence!"

Roderich chuckled. "Perhaps you'll be able to manage a customer or two."

"Yes!" Francis agreed with enthusiasm. "All the factors have now been calculated! It's now your time to shine, mon ami – show the customers your beauty!"

Elizaveta felt the blood drain from her face.

 _I actually have to be a host?!_

xXxXxXx

"S-So, Eli," a stammering blonde said, adjusting the ribbon in her hair, "w-what are some of your hobbies? A-Are you more into arts, o-or sciences?"

"Is it true that have to get around by train?" the brunette beside her demanded, interrupting the poor girl. "Or some other form of public transportation? Because you're so poor you can't afford a car?"

"That's so rude, Lien!" the blonde gasped, horrified.

The Lien girl shrugged. "I was only curious, Lili. But whatever." She frowned, leaning towards Elizaveta. "Do you use something special for your skin? Because your face is flawless."

"No, I don't do anything for it," the Hungarian replied awkwardly, unsure of what she was supposed to say.

"Why don't you tell us why you decided to join the Host Club?" Lili suggested, giving her a soft smile.

Elizaveta frowned. "Well, I broke a v –" She stopped, recalling that she wasn't supposed to mention that incident to any customers. Her eyes widened as realization occurred.

 _The vase!_

That was right – if she could just get one hundred customers, she'd be free of the eight million yen debt.

Then panic set in. She still had no idea what she was supposed to be doing!

 _If you ever come across a problem during your time as a host, it's always useful to look at things from a lower perspective._

Francis' words from earlier drifted into her mind, and she relaxed a bit. She could do this.

"Would you ladies," she said slowly, picking up a glass from the table before shifting herself so that she was looking at the girls from beneath them, "like to get some more water?"

Both girls turned a brilliant shade of crimson, stammering together, "S-Sure!"

"Impressive, isn't it?" Roderich said to the twins, who were watching her performance. "He's a natural – and his innocence is undoubtedly a refreshing treat."

Lovino snorted. "I guess."

"And it's not as if any of the other hosts fall under the category of 'polite', huh?" Feliciano mused. "But you're right, Roderich – he is a natural."

Francis had shifted on the couch to watch the Hungarian, much to the dismay of his customer.

"Your mother passed away when you were little, Eli?" Lili asked, covering her mouth. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

"What do you do about housework without your mom?" Lien said, her arms crossed over her chest. "I mean, you're too poor to hire some sort of maid."

"Lien!"

"Sorry, sorry."

"It's fine," Elizaveta laughed. "I actually do most of them myself. I don't mind, plus it helps make things less stressful for my father. And I love cooking." A soft smiled formed on her lips. "My mother did, too. She left a lot of recipes behind, and it's enjoyable to learn how to cook them one by one. And since I'm in Japan right now, instead of Hungary, I love combining traditional Hungarian recipes with Japanese ones to see what I can create." She chuckled to herself. "Though I'll admit that they don't always turn out well." She smiled warmly at the girls. "But when they do, it makes my father happy – and myself, too. I love times like those more than anything."

Both Lili and Lien had been struck speechless, the latter finally breaking the silence after a moment. "Could we… Could we request you again tomorrow, Eli?"

Elizaveta beamed at them. "I would appreciate that very much, ladies." After all, it'd make her one step closer to paying off her debt.

"S-Such a natural," Francis stammered, Roderich nodding in agreement. "He doesn't need any sort of special technique or anything!"

Natalia cleared her throat, trying to draw the blonde's attention back to her. "Francis? Are you ignoring your most loyal customer?"

"I'm sorry, ma chèrie," he said, bowing his head to her. "I was concerned for our newest host."

"Mhmm," the Belarusian replied, hiding her disdain well. "You certainly do your best to watch over him, don't you?"

Francis chuckled. "Well, he's quite intriguing, if I'm honest." His violet eyes lit up as a thought occurred to him. "Miss Natalia, have you by chance tried the commoner's ramen? It's so delicious to the point it's nearly addicting."

Natalia wrinkled her nose in disgust. "No, I have never tried it – and don't intend to, as it's quite unhealthy. And I'm surprised you've eaten it, Francis. It seems below you."

The blonde shook his head, giving her a warm smile. "Not at all, ma chère. If anything I've been getting into more and more commoners' food as of late." He then turned away from the girl, snapping his fingers. "Eli! I'd like you to meet my best customer."

"Nice to meet you, Miss…?" Elizaveta said to the girl, wondering how anyone could find Francis so attractive that they'd request him all the time.

"Natalia," she replied frostily. "Natalia Arlovskaya."

"Miss Arlovskaya," the Hungarian concluded, smiling at her. For some reason, the silver-haired woman seemed familiar to her… Ah! That was it. She was the girl from a few days ago, who'd said something under her breath about the instant coffee.

"You're too cute, Eli!" Francis squealed, tackling her in a hug. "I've never seen you make such an adorable face!"

Elizaveta tried to escape from the Frenchman's grip, but found herself trapped.

"You looked so shy and precious and – oh, you're so cute!"

"Excuse me, Francis," Natalia interrupted, her tone laced with irritation. "I'm still –"

"The cutest thing in the world!"

The twins snickered. "Eli's being sexually harassed by Sovrano again."

Somehow through the chaos that was Francis, Elizaveta caught sight of a certain stoic blonde. "Berwald! Help me!" she begged, reaching out for him.

A split second later, she felt herself being lifted through the air and then slung over his shoulder, the wind knocked out of her. "Er… Thank you," she said, coughing in an attempt to return oxygen to her lungs.

Berwald, who seemed frozen in shock from some revelation, broke out of it and nodded.

"You didn't have to go that far, Berwald," Francis said, frowning.

"I was asked for help, so I helped," the Swede replied calmly.

"Hmph," the Frenchman sniffed before returning his attention to Elizaveta. "Why don't you come back to Papa, Eli?"

"Because I don't need another father," she grumbled as she was being put down.

Natalia watched the entire exchange, violet eyes narrowed as she seethed internally

"Why not? Two fathers is better than one!"

"Not if the second father is you, Francis!" Elizaveta retorted.

 _Good grief._

xXxXxXx

"Let's play the 'Which One is Lovino Game?'!" the twins cheered, linking arms with each other and adjusting the hats on their head in sync.

Elizaveta snorted to herself. It seemed like a boring game.

"It's so difficult," Laura said, tucking a strand of her dirty blonde hair behind her ear. "You guys look so identical!"

"Eli, who do you think is who?" Lili asked. "Can you tell the difference?"

Elizaveta sighed. "Feliciano is on the right and Lovino the left."

"Wrong!" they crowed, sticking their tongues at her.

She shook her head. "No, I'm right. You might look identical, but you are different. Though sometimes the difference is slight."

The twins exchanged glances, unable to comprehend how she'd seen through them so easily.

"That's amazing, Eli!" Lili said, green eyes wide. "You're so wonderful!"

"You looked at them not with your eyes, but with your heart," Laura gushed. "Ah, how perfect!"

"He's definitely skilled at hosting," Roderich said to the blonde standing beside him. "He'll have a hundred customers before you know it."

Francis nodded, not commenting.

"Oh, Eli!" Laura gasped, noticing the bandage on Elizaveta's left index finger. "What happened?"

"Oh, I cut myself on accident while preparing dinner last night," the Hungarian replied, shrugging. "It's nothing."

"As long as you're sure you're okay…"

"I am," she replied, flashing the girls a warm smile. "It's very sweet of you to be concerned for me." While her customers giggled in joy amongst themselves, Elizaveta recalled the real reason she'd gotten the cut.

 _A piece of a blade between the pages of my math textbook. And before that, a sewing needle in the back of my jacket._

She sighed, wondering if it was a coincidence or not.

 _I can't assume someone is out to get me, but I have to admit… It does feel that way._

xXxXxXx

Elizaveta groaned as she stared down at the fountain through the second floor window. All her stuff had been thrown into it – she cursed. That meant her wallet was down there, too. And that had her food money in it. "This is getting ridiculous," she sighed. "Guess I should go get it…" She turned around, only to bump into someone. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she apologized, bowing. "I should have been looking where I was going."

"Oh, hello," the silver-haired woman she'd run into said coolly. "You're the commoner foreign exchange student, no?"

Ah, Elizaveta remembered. This girl was Francis' best customer. Natalia something.

"I suppose you do look much more like someone from our school, now that Francis has fixed you up a bit," she continued. She started to move past the Hungarian, only to pause and add, "Such a shame he can't fix the rest of you – like your poor upbringing, hmm?" With that, she was gone.

Elizaveta sighed to herself before continuing to make her way down to the fountain. She couldn't leave her stuff down there for long, or else it would be completely waterlogged.

As she was rooting through the water for her last few items, her mind drifted back to the Belarusian woman. She was likely the one responsible for everything that had been happening to her lately. But she couldn't go saying that without having some sort of proof to back up her statement.

She groaned as she came up empty-handed yet again. "I really need to find my food money…"

"Bonjour, mon ami," an amused voice said. "Skipping club activities to have a little splash in the pond, are we?"

Elizaveta sighed, recognizing the person all too well. "Sorry, Francis." If she was honest, she'd completely forgotten.

"Why's your bag all wet?" he asked, nudging at it with his foot.

"I dropped it," she replied. "But my wallet fell out when I did, and now I can't find it."

"That's because you're always supposed to keep your wallet in a pocket that's zipped shut!" he scoffed. "You didn't know that?"

The Hungarian rolled her eyes, not bothering to reply.

"But anyways," Francis said, stepping into the fountain before taking his shirt off and throwing it aside, "your method of searching is pathetic, mon ami. You've got to do it with flair… Like so!" He shoved his hands into the water, flailing around as he hunted for her wallet.

"You don't have to help me!" Elizaveta said, trying to stop him. "You're going to get all wet!"

He gave her a sincere smile – perhaps the first she'd ever seen from him. "No worries. After all, people always tell me that I'm dripping with good looks."

She froze, staring at him. Could he be a good person after all…?

"Aww, you're making that cute face again," Francis gushed, pinching her cheeks and effectively ruining the moment. "Have you fallen in love with me already?"

Elizaveta glared icily at him before shoving his hands away from her. "No thank you. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to continue searching."

"Of course," he chuckled. "If memory serves," he added, his laughter suddenly gaining an evil edge to it, "finder's fee is thirty percent?"

"You're rich and still do that stuff?" she muttered, not bothering to give a proper answer.

Finally, they managed to find her wallet, and both cried tears of joy. Metaphorically speaking.

After helping her gather her stuff together, Francis said he had to return to the Host Club, but told her to go and dry off.

"We can manage one session without our natural rookie," he said with a wink before walking away.

She shook her head as he went, though a small smile was dancing on her lips.

 _I guess he's not so bad after all._

xXxXxXx

"That does indeed sound quite bothersome," Natalia said, taking a sip of tea. "But weren't you scared, Eli, of how your bag fell into the fountain all by itself? I mean, I'd be terrified."

"Y-Yes," Elizaveta stuttered in response, wondering why on Earth this woman would request her. "It was unexpected, to say the least."

"Although, the thing that is most bothersome to me is that you forced Francis to help you search the fountain," the Belarusian continued, staring coldly at the brunette. "I mean, your bag was a cheap little thing, wasn't it? You had no right to subdue Francis in such a way." She took a sip of her tea before continuing. "I hope you don't believe he cares about you. The only reason he's paid you any attention is because your family background is something new to him – before you know it he'll have forgotten all about you." She chuckled. "Perhaps all those strange things that happened to you are because of your arrogance around Francis, hmm?"

Something clicked in Elizaveta's mind. "I understand." She stared at the silver-haired woman. "You're jealous – aren't you?"

The color drained from Natalia's face. "I – I –" She stopped speaking as her violet eyes got a malicious glean in them. In less than a second she'd flipped the tea try, spilling it all over herself. "Help!" she shrieked. "Eli dumped tea on me!"

The room exploded into whispers as everyone's attention was drawn to Elizaveta and Natalia.

The silver-haired woman spat at the Hungarian. "I always knew you couldn't trust commoners, especially one as disgusting as – augh!" She stared up at the Vargas twins, who were both holding now empty glasses above her head. "What on Earth –?!"

"Oops," they said in unison. "Sorry. Our hands slipped."

Roderich stepped forward next to Elizaveta, then dropped several photographs on the table, including one of Natalia dumping the brunette's bag into the fountain. "Did you really think we weren't aware of what you were doing, Miss Arlovskaya?" he said coldly. "Please don't underestimate my information network." An evil smile danced on the corners of his lips. "And just so you know – we have much more than these few pictures, so don't try anything funny."

"You're so scary," Peter said to her, hugging Hanatamago to his chest. "You're like some kind of demon-lady."

"Hideous," Berwald murmured, staring down at the violet-eyed woman.

"It's true," Francis agreed, lifting Natalia's chin with his hand.

"Francis!" she gasped. "Eli –"

He held up a hand to silence her. "You may be beautiful on the outside, but what's the use if you only look good?" He sighed, placing a hand over his heart as he stepped away from her. "It pains me to say this, ma chère, but would you mind never coming back to the Host Club?" He stared coldly at her, his violet eyes hardening. "By behaving as you have towards Eli, you are no longer allowed to be a customer."

Natalia swallowed the lump in her throat before standing, eyes watery. "Fine," she said before marching out of the room. Out of respect to her, everyone ignored the sounds of crying that echoed through the hall afterwards.

Elizaveta, who'd ended up on the floor in the middle of the commotion, stared up at Francis, waiting for something to happen – though she wasn't sure what.

Francis noticed her gaze from the corner of his eyes and felt blood rush to his cheeks. "Right," he said, coughing before clearing his throat. "You've earned yourself a punishment for causing so much trouble. Plus one hundred customers to your current quota. Understand?"

Her jaw dropped. "What?!"

He sighed. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have lost my best customer, nor would I have had to search through a pond with my beautiful self."

She groaned. "You've got to be kidding me."

The Frenchman chuckled at her misery before offering his hand to her. "Chin up, Eli – I have high expectations for you."

She rolled her eyes, ignoring his hand and standing up on her own. "Thanks, I guess."

Francis noticed a small card on the floor, soaked in tea. "What's this?"

Elizaveta turned to see what he was referring to. "Oh, it's probably mine," she said as he picked it up. "I bet it fell out of my pocket."

"Eli…" he said after a long pause.

"Hmm?"

"Are you… Are you a girl?"

"Yes." She hesitated, then added, "Biologically, at least. My full name is Elizaveta." She looked down at the ID he was holding. "Oh, I forgot my hair is long in that picture. It's from ninth grade."

Francis blinked, not responding immediately. Finally, things seemed to click into place. "YOU'RE A GIRL?!"

Lovino rolled his eyes at the scene unfolding in front of him. "He finally figured it out. That idiota."

Feliciano laughed. "Well, I'm sure he knew it instinctively, and just refused to acknowledge it. After all, no one would do that much for a guy."

"I knew it from the beginning!" Peter giggled. "Well, pretty much."

Roderich chuckled, pushing his glasses up his nose. "It's certainly an interesting development. Who knows what this will turn into?"

Elizaveta took her ID from the blonde while he continued to sputter nonsensical phrases. "I mean, I was fine with you thinking I was a guy, so I didn't say anything. The importance of being distinctively a guy or girl is probably lower for me than the average person. It's not as if I've ever been interested in appearances." She rolled her eyes. "My father is interested enough for the both of us." She smiled at Francis – perhaps the first real one she'd ever given him. "But you know, you were pretty cool earlier."

He turned a brilliant shade of crimson at her words, covering his mouth with one hand.

Offhandedly, the brunette added, "And I've realized that it's really not too bad to be popular amongst the girls. It's actually kind of fun."

And as quickly as the blush had appeared, it faded to be replaced by an expression of dread on Francis' face. "WHAT? Wait, Eli – I mean, Elizaveta –!"

Roderich sighed as he watched the blonde chase after the poor Hungarian, though there was a smile dancing on his lips.

 _Could this be the beginnings of love?_

xXxXxXx

"And that's basically how the first chapter goes," Haruhi said, switching her phone to her left hand while she took a pan of cookies out of the oven with her right. "I just thought it was funny because it used so many of your friends' names – and your own –, not to mention it reminded me of the Host Club I was in. Technically still in, I suppose."

Roderich chuckled on the other end of the line. "I can see why you might find it amusing. Perhaps I should read the series myself."

Haruhi laughed nervously. "I'm sure if it's your type of series. I'm only reading it because Mei wanted me to. She insisted that it had a lot of parallels to how Tamaki and I met. Which it kind of does." Her brown eyes widened as a though came to mind. "Oh! Your girlfriend, Elizaveta!" She stopped. "Er, are you and Elizaveta a thing right now?"

The Austrian laughed. "Yes, we are."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. I was worried that I was about to offend you, because I know you were on-again, off-again for a while." She cleared her throat and began to carefully move the cookies from the pan into a container. "Anyways, she's into romance stuff, isn't she? She might like it."

"I'll recommend it to her," Roderich said, "but I don't know how comfortable she'll be with reading a story that has so many names in it that she's familiar with."

"Well, I don't know her too well," Haruhi began, "so I guess I can't really speak for her, but she seems like the type of person who wouldn't care about that sort of thing all too much."

"I'm sure you're right," he agreed. "I'd tell her about the book right now, but she's currently engaged in an epic video game marathon with Gilbert. Every now and then I heard cursing from the room they're in. Or worse, I hear Elizaveta hitting him with her frying pan."

"What game are they playing?"

"Mario Kart."

Haruhi bit back a laugh. "Well, I suppose it's perfectly understandable if that's the case."

"Agreed." There was a pause. "You know," Roderich mused, "I think I'll let Francis know about it as well. He loves being the center of attention, so he'll enjoy having a book where one of the central characters – and the love interest, it seems – shares his name."

"You sure that's a good idea?" the brunette teased. "If memory serves, you've told me that he's a huge flirt. He might try and steal Elizaveta from you if you aren't careful."

He snorted. "He can try, but her frying pan would turn him away pretty quickly."

She laughed. "You might as well show the book to everyone that's mentioned in it. But if you don't get in contact with me before a week goes by I'll have to assume one of them has killed you."

"Oh, ha ha," Roderich said dryly. "Aren't you hilarious?"

Haruhi chuckled, putting the last of the cookies away. "I'm aware."

"Why don't you show the book to your friends? It has parallels to your life, after all."

"Mori actually read it before me, surprisingly enough," she said. "He recommended it to Kasanoda, who then gave it Mei, and now it's made its way to me." Offhandedly, she added, "Mei and Kasanoda are actually a thing now – if you can remember them at all."

"Really?" Roderich said, a note of surprise in his voice. "That's the redhead and your childhood friend, right?"

"Yup."

"Interesting. I wouldn't have expected that."

"Me neither, if I'm honest," she replied with a laugh. "But they're a cute couple, so I hope things work out between them."

"To get back on topic," the Austrian said, "do you plan on showing it to your friends or not?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. Tamaki is going to find the book no matter what I do, so he'll read it. Mori has likely told Honey to read it already. I might get in contact with Hikaru and Kaoru to tell them; they're laid back enough to enjoy it. But Kyoya…?" She shuddered. "He'd say it's a waste of his time and of no benefit to the Ootori family. I can picture the conversation now."

"Get your fiancé to tell him," Roderich chuckled. "They're best friends, aren't they?"

Haruhi smirked. "I'll take you up on that suggestion. Though the first step is for me to get Tamaki to read it, huh?"

"I'm sure you can. You are quite persuasive."

"I'll take that as a compliment." The girl paused as heard the sound of a door opening and closing.

"Haruhi!" a cheery voice called. "I'm home!"

"I've got to go, Roderich," she said, her tone apologetic. "Tamaki's back, and I know he'll be annoyed if I stay on the phone any longer." She rolled her eyes. "He insists that we have 'cuddle time' every evening."

Roderich sighed. "I wish I could get Elizaveta to have some 'cuddle time' with me. But I'm afraid she'd break my neck." He paused as the girl laughed at his comment, then added, "It's rather convenient that you have to hang up now, because I just heard a suspicious clang coming from the main room, and now I only hear Elizaveta's voice." He sighed again, though this one was of exasperation. "I hope she hasn't gone off and killed Gilbert. Ludwig wouldn't be happy with me."

Haruhi shook her head, a smile painting her features. "Well, I wish you luck with whatever you end up facing. And don't forget to show your friends the book! It's called 'Hetalia High School Host Club', in case you've already forgotten."

"Fine, as long as you do the same."

"Deal."

"It was good talking to you again, Haruhi."

"You as well. Goodbye." There was a beep as she hung up, then a click as she turned the phone off and shoved it into her back pocket.

"Who were you talking to?" Tamaki asked, causing her to jump.

"Please don't sneak up on me!" the brunette said, holding one hand to her heart. "Good grief, Tamaki."

He pouted before pulling her into a hug. "Sorry. But who was that?"

"I can already tell that you're overthinking this," she commented wryly, hugging him back. "It was just my old friend Roderich. My father signed me up for music lessons while I was younger because I was so tone-deaf, and he was there, too. Though he was far more talented than the rest of us. I think he makes a living as a pianist, actually."

Tamaki's pout deepened. "A pianist?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're much better than him, alright? Does me saying that make you feel better?"

He beamed at her. "Yes, it does!"

She sighed. "You're such an idiot, you know."

He buried his face in her hair. "Yes. Hikaru, Kaoru, Kyoya – you've all reminded me of that plenty of times. But what's important is that I'm your idiot."

Haruhi chuckled. "That you are."

Her fiancé pulled away, an eager grin painted on his face. "So we get to have cuddle time tonight, yeah? I've already picked out some movies to choose from!"

"Yes, we get to have cuddle time," she said, unable to stop herself from smiling. "I baked cookies for us to eat, too." She held up the container as proof.

Tamaki cheered, grabbing her free hand and pulling her into the living room. "Yay! Let's go!"

As she was being dragged along, the brunette got an idea. "Actually, Tamaki," she said slowly, "can we read a book tonight while we cuddle, instead of watching a movie?"

He shrugged as he pulled her onto the couch beside him. "Depends. What's it about?"

Haruhi smiled. "I think you'll like it. It's called 'Hetalia High School Host Club'."

Tamaki's eyes lit up, and mischievous smirk grew on his face. "Is that so?" He laughed. "I have a feeling I'll like it a lot." He reached to the side and grabbed the book off of the small coffee table next to him. "Let's begin, shall we?"


End file.
